


Tears Falling Down At The Party

by Cats_Dont_Float



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Childhood Trauma, Cigarettes, Drunkenness, Family Member Death, First Kiss, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Nightmares, Party, Past Child Abuse, Smoking, mentions of death and funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:41:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23447200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cats_Dont_Float/pseuds/Cats_Dont_Float
Summary: Alone at a party he wishes he hadn't gone to, Dirk heads out onto a balcony and stumbles across an old friend crying out there. The encounter brings back old feelings, but this time one of them does something about it.
Relationships: John Egbert/Dirk Strider
Comments: 2
Kudos: 82





	Tears Falling Down At The Party

The small apartment is crowded, packed with people, all drunk and shouting over the pulsing beat of the music. Usually this is all a welcome distraction to Dirk, the music blocking out the thoughts that constantly eat away at the corners of his mind, the feeling of other people brushing against him as he moves through the crowd being a good enough substitution for actual human contact. But tonight it’s not quite enough. Anxiety and darkness still buzz at the back of his brain, and every slight touch of skin against his makes him flinch, feels like hot metal burning into him. He shoves his way through the crowd, shrinking away from the drunken strangers that leer and hiding himself behind a protective straight face and the dark lenses of his shades, until finally he breaks free from the throng of bodies and the heat of the crowd, and into the abandoned bedroom of the apartment owner. He shouldn’t be here, he’s sure this room is out of bounds to guests, but he knows the person throwing the party well enough to get away with it, and he could really do with a break right now.

Shaking hands, covered by the beaten leather of his usual fingerless gloves, reach into his jean pockets for the pack of cigarettes and lighter stowed there as he strolls across the room towards the balcony. The glass door is already slid open, and just a second before he steps out into the cool night air he realises there’s someone else already out there. He’s already committed by now though, and one person is nowhere near as bad as the mass of people back out there, so he continues on out towards the rail around the very edge of the balcony and slumps against it tiredly. The night is cold, and peaceful, the music from the pastry muffled and not quite destroying the silence that the night has blanketed everything with. He breathes in a few deep breaths of the cool air before he lights up a cigarette and raises it to his lips slowly. As he slowly draws in a breath, he closes his eyes faintly and lets himself sink into his own thoughts.

He’s pulled back from his head rather quickly, though, by the sudden realisation of a sniffling sound from somewhere nearby, only suddenly audible in the gap between two songs from inside. He opens up his eyes, and subtly glances to his left at the other person out there, glad for the way his shades mask the direction of his gaze. The other man is almost completely masked in shadow, hunched over the railing and staring down at the streets below. But in the dim light from within, Dirk can just about see the way the man’s shoulders are shaking, and how his hands are clenched into tight fists on top of the cold metal bars. All the pain of a man fighting back tears is held in his stiff posture, and Dirk recognises it all too well. He’s never been good at emotions, but suddenly he feels a little pang of sympathy for the man beside him.

“Do you smoke?” It’s the first thing Dirk can think to say, suddenly overwhelmed by the need to break the silence between the two of them before it gets quite too awkward.

“Uh, what?” The other man mumbles awkwardly, clearing his throat and sniffing again. His voice is vaguely familiar, but Dirk can’t place it, probably because he’s slurring his words slightly, and definitely drunk. Drunker than Dirk is, at least.

“Cigarettes,” Dirk says, “You smoke em?”

“Oh, uh, sometimes,” the man admits, almost sheepishly, like he’s ashamed of it. Maybe he is.

“Here,” Dirk says, and tosses the pack over, The other man barely catches them, fumbling with the packet for a good few seconds before finally grasping onto it properly. “You look like you need it,” Dirk adds when the other man looks at him quizzically.

“Thanks,” he says, taking one from the packet, and then taking the lighter that Dirk decides to pass to him rather than giving him another chance to demonstrate his terrible catching skills again.

There’s nothing for a second as the two of them smoke in silence, and then the other man shuffles over a little closer. Dirk’s confused for a second, until the man passes the cigarettes and lighter back to him.

“Thanks,” Dirk mumbles, cigarette still hanging from the corner of his mouth, and shoves both things back into his pocket.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” The other man asks after a few moments.

Dirk turns to look at the other man again in the low light, and squints faintly. His shades sure aren’t helping him to see properly, but he thinks he maybe recognises him. He still thinks the man’s voice is familiar to him too, but no matter how hard he searches through his brain, he can't quite place the man.

“Uh, sorry, no,” Dirk sighs softly after a second, when he still can’t find the name that’s right on the tip of his tongue.

“It’s John,” the man says, and suddenly Dirk remembers.

It’s been years since he last saw John, the boy who was best friends with his younger brother, Dave, growing up. John’s certainly changed. He’s gotten taller, much taller, and more muscular too, his face not as round as it used to be and marked by slightly scruffy facial hair. But it’s not that that makes him seem so different. Dirk doesn’t think he’s ever seen John without his crooked, excitable smile and that cheeky shine in his eyes. Now he just looks tired, and miserable.

“Woah. Hey man,” he says, “Didn’t recognise you at all.”

John chuckles faintly, though it sounds uncomfortably forced. “Yeah, ‘s fine,” he mumbles, “how are you?”

“I’m alright, man,” Dirk shrugs, “But what about you, dude? You aren’t looking so good.”

Dirk doesn’t fail to notice the way John instantly tenses, pausing with his mouth half open. “I’m… fine,” he says a little too roughly, before raising what’s left of his cigarette to take another drag.

Dirk wants to push. He wants to know what’s wrong with John, wants to help him somehow. But he just doesn’t know how to deal with other people’s emotions. And so he’s just silent for a while as John smokes the last of the cigarette and then drops the end to the ground and stomps on it. Dirk doesn’t have to wait too long though, it turns out, because as John exhales the last of the smoke, his shoulders shudder and he lets out a choked sob.

“Oh fuck,” Dirk mutters as John leans onto the railway again and doesn’t even try to stop himself from crying this time. “Dude,” he murmurs weakly, “Are you -”

He doesn’t even get time to finish that weak attempt at a question, though, because John turns suddenly and practically throws himself at Dirk. John’s always been a pretty hands on guy, Dirk remembers vaguely, and apparently he still is now after all these years, because he wastes no time in dropping his head down onto Dirk’s shoulder and continuing to sob. Dirk freezes, hands up in the air as he tries to work out what to do, and then eventually he drops his cigarette butt down onto the ground and lowers his hands down to John’s back to awkwardly hug him.

“John,” Dirk says quietly after a second, “Is everything okay?” It’s a stupid question. Of course everything’s not okay.

John chokes back a sob and then mumbles, “Dad died. Last week.”

“Oh shit.” Dirk remembers John’s dad, and how much he meant to John. A few times he went over for dinner when Dave went over there too. The man was always a great guy. “John, I’m sorry,” he says. He never knows what to say to people in these situations.

“‘S not your fault,” John mumbles.

“I know,” Dirk huffs, “I just… I don’t know.” He trails off and rubs one hand up and down John’s back as comfortably as he can. “Why are you here?”

“I know the guy throwing the party,” John mumbles, sniffing horribly again, “thought it’d be a good distraction. I don’t know.”

“You should go home,” Dirk tells him, “I’ll walk you home.”

John shakes his head, chin digging into Dirk’s shoulder weirdly. “I don’t live in this town. Was supposed to sleep here tonight.”

“There’s like a hundred people staying here tonight,” Dirk says. In an instant he knows he can’t leave John alone like this in an apartment of strangers, and comes to a realisation what he has to do. Sure, he could let John stay here, or find a motel or something for him, but he’s not an asshole. Or at least he’d like to think he isn’t.

“Come back to my apartment for tonight,” Dirk sighs, “It’s not far from here and at least you’ll have a place to sleep without getting disturbed by hoards of drunk idiots.”

John raises his head slowly and then shuffles backwards so he can look at Dirk. “Are you sure?” He asks, and his voice sounds so weak and sad that it makes Dirk’s stomach twist weirdly.

“Yeah, come on,” Dirk says, “I wanna leave this place anyway.”

John stares up at him for a second longer, eyes watery behind the dorky glasses he’s still wearing after all this time, during which time Dirk becomes aware that they’re faces are uncomfortably close together. Then John nods and steps away from Dirk just a little to wipe his face on his sleeve. Gross.

“Come on then,” Dirk mutters, fondly rolling his eyes behind his shades and heading back inside. John follows after him like an obedient little puppy, still sniffling and murmuring something weakly under his breath as they go.

Dirk pushes his way through the crowd, not giving himself enough time to focus on all the people around him, too focused on getting John out in one piece. He’s still crying, though a little less now, and is apparently now holding onto Dirk’s arm for dear life, like a toddler clinging onto their parent in a busy shopping centre. Dirk’s not sure when John grabbed hold of him, but he’s not about to push him away like some asshole, he just tries not to get carried away by the feeling of how warm his hand is against his arm.

Finally, finally, after what feels like hours of fighting their way through the mess of drunken bodies, they get out of the apartment, and then downstairs and onto the street. It’s colder out there than Dirk had expected it to be, colder than he remembers it being on the balcony, and he shudders as his bare arms hit the cool night air. John, in a thin shirt and a pair of jeans isn’t doing much better. It turns out John’s drunker than Dirk had realised too, stumbling as they start to walk down the street and dragging his feet in a way that tells Dirk it’s going to take them a ridiculously long time just to travel a few streets. He sighs softly and lights up another cigarette as they start off towards his house.

“Dirk, Dirk, Dirk,” John mumbles as they walk, tugging at the side of his shirt.

“What’s up, Egbert?” He sighs, exhaling a plume of smoke and watching it curl into the night air.

“You walk so fast,” John whines, “I can barely keep up.”

“That’s because you’re drunk, John,” Dirk says, “I walk at a perfectly normal pace.”

“So what if I am drunk?” John retorts grumpily, attempting to try and storm off ahead but tripping over his own feet. Dirk grabs his arm to stop him falling on his ass. “You do not walk normal! You walk like a… like a… I forgot. Those animals that are fast”

“Just let me get you home,” Dirk huffs, not even bothering trying to decipher what John’s on about. He seems to be getting drunker now they’re out of the party, if that’s even possible. “I’ll get you some fucking water and you can go to sleep,” Dirk continues.

“Such a good friend,” John mutters.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Dirk sighs, “Just focus on walking in a straight line please.”

“Such a good friend,” John repeats, “Hey, Dirk, why’d we stop being friends?”

“You’re not my friend, you’re Dave’s,” Dirk reminds him with a heavy sigh, “You and Dave moved away for college and seemed to forget I ever existed, remember?” He’s not still angry about that, he convinces himself. He’s just.. Sad. And maybe he’s been missing his brother a little (and Dave’s dorky friend, even though he’ll never admit that to himself).

John doesn’t reply for a moment, humming thoughtfully to himself, and then looks up at Dirk. “I think we’re friends,” he declares, and then, “I’ve missed you.”

“Shut up, Egbert,” Dirk says, picking up his pace a little so John has to hurry to keep up again.

*****

It takes half an hour, and several falls on John’s behalf, but finally they make it to Dirk’s apartment building.

“Gotta be quiet, dude,” Dirk says as they make their way upstairs, “Neighbors like to file noise complaints.”

John nods solemnly and presses a finger to his lips as they continue on upwards. Dirk shakes his head faintly at him in amusement. In all the years he used to know John for, he doesn’t think he ever saw the boy drunk, and it certainly is hilarious, if not the slightest bit concerning. He’s just happy that John’s not crying anymore.

They finally reach the top of the flight of stairs, and Dirk heads down the hallway to unlock the door to his apartment. It’s dark inside, and he flicks on a light in the hallway before he steps aside to let John in. John stands around awkwardly in the living room, looking around him and playing with the sleeves of his hoodie, until Dirk huffs softly and leads him into the living room.

He’s reminded as he walks in that his apartment probably isn’t as nice as it could be, or as anyone might expect it to be. There’s only one sofa in front of the tv, broken and sagging with holes in it in places. Random stuff is piled all over the floor too, pieces of mechanics and things he’s working on scattered everywhere, and on the single sofa there’s a pillow and blanket where he’s been sleeping there instead of in his bed for the past week.

“Sorry, it’s a mess in here,” Dirk murmurs, dragging a hand tiredly through his hair and feeling strands of it come loose as gel cracks between his fingers. He drops down onto one side of the sofa and lets out a sigh.

“It’s fine,” John shrugs, cautiously taking a seat by Dirk’s side, being very obvious in keeping as much space as possible between the two of them. He shuffles slightly to lean further against the arm of the sofa, dropping his head down onto one of the cushions, black hair splaying out messily.

“Dirk I am so, so sorry,” John mumbles, head flopping further against the sofa cushion, “I’m such a stupid idiot.”

“No, you’re not,” Dirk says firmly, “You’re grieving and that’s okay. You're allowed to be sad.”

John grumbles something into the pillow, and crosses his arms grumpily with a ridiculously over exaggerated pout. His eyes flutter closed slowly then, and he’s still for a while, enough for Dirk to almost think he’s passed out, until he hears John still mumbling quietly to himself.

Finally, unable to resist the temptation any longer, Dirk takes a moment to study John, craning his head sideways strangely to see him and hoping his shades obscure his gaze enough for it to not look strange. Sure, he’s changed over the years, but he still looks similar to the young man Dirk knew all those years ago, just more tired and broken. Dirk’s sure he probably looks the same to John, or he would if he were to take his shades off. Beyond it all, though, Dirk finds that he still finds John as uncomfortably attractive as he used to when they were younger, though it’s in a different way now. Years ago Dirk could brush it off, force himself not to feel those things because John was his younger brother’s best friend, and it felt weird and forbidden. But now, after all these years, he’s finding it harder to deny, especially now when John looks so small and reserved, and Dirk wants nothing more than to just comfort him and hold him forever. Dirk swallows thickly at that thought, trying to push that thought away, and ignores it for now. He’s got other things to focus on for now.

“I’ll get you some water,” he says abruptly, getting up to his feet just because it feels better to be up and moving than sat staring at John.

He pauses for a moment in the kitchen as he fills two glasses with water. “What are you doing, Strider?” He mutters to himself, “Get a grip. He’s your younger brother’s best friend. And he’s grieving. And drunk. You got over your crush on him ages ago, remember? Stop being weird.”

“Dirk?” A voice calls from the living room, “Where’d you go?”.

Dirk knocks the tap with his elbow to turn off the stream of water, and then turns back towards the living room. “Coming!” He calls back with a small sigh. It’s going to be a long night.

*****  
Half an hour later, John passes out on the sofa, cheek smushed awkwardly against one cushion, glasses askew. Dirk stares at him for a second, wondering how someone can still be so attractive even when they’re drooling in their sleep. He slides off of the tiny patch of safe he’s sat on that John isn’t sprawled across, and then crouches in front of the other boy to gently slide his glasses off of his face, telling himself it’s only so they don’t get crushed and leave him with a blind John to deal with in the morning. He folds them up neatly and places them on the coffee table, before looking back at John. For a second his hand hovers, unsure, tempted to reach out and brush the hair back from John’s forehead in some form of comforting gesture. John’s hair was always so soft when they were younger. Is it still? Or has time and stress thinned it, made it wiry?

He lets his hand drop onto his knee with a dull slapping sound, and gets up, tearing his gaze from John’s sleeping face as he reaches for the waste paper bin in the corner of the room. He slams it down on the floor next to the sofa with a little too much force, earning him a disgruntled grumble from John.

“You better not puke on my fucking sofa, Egbert,” Dirk huffs, shooting what he hopes is a disdainful glare at the sleeping boy, not that there’s anyone else around to see it. That’s definitely a good thing, though, as it means there’s also no one else around to see him lift up the blanket that’s crumpled at one end of the sofa and gently tuck it over John’s sleeping body before he finally leaves the room.

Once he’s finally locked away in his own bedroom, Dirk takes off his shades and rubs at his tired eyes with a heavy sigh, before discarding the shades haphazardly on his bedside table. Then he throws his shirt off onto the floor somewhere, and crawls straight into bed. He’s not expecting sleep to come easily. It never usually does, and after tonight he’s expecting hours of his thoughts spiralling. But somehow the exhaustion and the few drinks he’s had kick in, and within minutes he’s falling into a deep sleep.

_It’s dark, blackness broken only by intermittent flashing, and there’s the pulsing beat of a bass but no sound of music. Dirk swallows thickly, already his heart pounding uncomfortably in his chest, the sound of his blood racing filling up his ears, the only sound reaching him in this hellish darkness. Then from the shadows a face looms, bearded and smirking, sharp triangulare glasses reflecting the flashes lights back at Dirk and blinding him. His Bro. The man who tormented him and Dave for their entire childhoods. The man Dirk wasn’t quick enough to save his younger brother from. The man they had to run from. Dirk stumbles backwards, arms flying up to protect his face, but his Bro is everywhere at once, flash-stepping around him, katana slicing through the air and shining lines of bright light across Dirk’s face. Somewhere, he hears Dave scream, the sound echoing. It’s a younger version of Dave, scream still high-pitched, from a time before he knew better than to scream, a time when he thought screaming might achieve something. Dirk falls to the floor in a tiny ball and clutches at his face, opening his mouth to scream into his elbows, but all that comes out is a hoarse cry that’s overpowered by a deep laugh that echoes vividly around the space as his Bro closes in._

Dirk wakes with a start, heart racing and sweat pouring down his face. With a shaky sigh, he wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, and then slowly gets up and out of bed on shaky feet. He needs a glass of water and a moment to catch his breath before he even attempts to try and sleep again.

As he walks slowly down the darkened hallway, barefeet padding softly against the carpet, he pauses at a small sound from the living room. Adrenaline courses through his veins for a second before he remembers bringing John home earlier, and he lets out a sigh of relief before heading into the living room.

John is sitting upright on the sofa, blanket draped around his shoulders, his face buried in his hands, illuminated faintly by the moonlight and streetlights streaming in through cracks in the curtains. Dirk approaches quietly, though John seems to notice after a moment and raises his head slowly to blink curiously at him. His glasses are gone, abandoned on the coffee table, his hair’s a mess, and Dirk’s never seen him looking quite so pitiful.

“Hey,” Dirk says awkwardly when the two have been staring at each other for too long.

“Hey,” John echoes him quietly, twisting his hands into the blanket.

“You okay?” Dirk asks.

John lets out a small huff. “Yeah,” he sighs, “I was… just thinking. Y’know… about dad.” If anything his voice sounds a little more stable now, enough to tell Dirk that he’s starting to sober up, which is sure to bring back his sadness.

Dirk knows he’s an idiot, for all of this. For bringing his old crush who he hasn’t seen for years back to his apartment randomly. For trying to comfort him when he knows he’s bad at this sort of thing. For every choice he’s made leading up this. But even so, he drops down onto the space on the sofa beside John and lets the other man lean on his side with a sigh.

“You’re gonna be okay, man,” Dirk says, “I know it sucks, but you’re gonna get through this. Your dad would want you to.”

John blinks up at him owlishly, then drops his head down onto his shoulder. For a second Dirk tenses, the feeling of John’s head on his shoulder feeling like fire burning into his skin. How long has it been since he had human contact like this? He’s suddenly uncomfortably aware of the fact that he’s shirtless, and that he can feel John’s tears against his bare skin.

“You’re shaking,” John says after a second, changing the subject in a way Dirk really wishes he wouldn’t, “Are you okay?”

And now Dirk’s the one with the pressing questions being turned on him, and he’s not sure he likes it.” Ah, yeah, just a nightmare,” he says gruffly, raising the hand not currently pinned against his side by John’s body to rub at the back of his neck.

“The same ones?” John mumbles, and Dirk knows what he’s asking. The same nightmares Dirk’s always had. The same nightmares Dave has too.

“Yeah,” Dirk admits.

“Still seeing your therapist?” John asks.

“Eh,” Dirk huffs, “Sometimes.”

John hums out a little noise that Dirk can’t quite decipher, but doesn’t say anything else. In the silence John shifts his head slightly, until Dirk can feel his breath on his skin, and leans his weight a little more heavily onto him. Dirk’s worried he’s about to fall asleep on him,, so he straightens himself up a little and looks over at John as the other boy stirs and blinks at him faintly.

“I need another smoke,” Dirk says.It’s not what he came out here for, but the moment he says the words it’s all he can think about. “You coming?”

“Uh, sure,” John says, and when Dirk gets up he follows, trailing behind him like a lost puppy.

There’s no balcony to Dirk’s apartment, he hasn’t got enough money for an apartment like that, but his bedroom window’s big enough for him to lean out of, so he leaves John into his room and heads over to throw the window open. He leaves the light off; he’s not sure he wants to see this scene in full light, doesn’t want to see John standing around in his bedroom, in a place he’s always kept so private. In the flickering light of his lighter as he lets it flare for a second though, he catches sight of John’s face for a second. He’s still not wearing his glasses and his eyes are only half open, blinking tiredly as he just sort of stares at Dirk. Silently, Dirk waves the pack of cigarettes at him, but John shakes his head.

“I shouldn’t,” he says, “It’ll get bad again.”

Dirk nods. He’s not one for peer pressure. But he leaves the pack and the light sitting on the windowsill in case John changes his mind as he leans out of the window and inhales a lungful of smoke. He’s perfectly prepared to stand there and smoke in silent, almost forgetting for a moment that he’s not alone, but then John starts speaking.

“Hey, Dirk,” he says softly, and waits until Dirk lets out a small hum to say he’s listening before he continues speaking, “I’m really sorry that when me and Dave moved you kinda got left behind. You were my friend just as much as Dave was, even if you didn’t think so, and I… I’ve missed you. I think about you sometimes.A lot, actually. I feel like we could have got closer but… it always felt like you were hiding yourself away.”

Dirk glances over at the half of John’s face that he can see in a sliver of light coming in from outside, mouth half open in surprise. Turns out John’s more sober now than he thought.

“And you know,” John’s still speaking apparently, “I always felt as close to you as I did with Dave but… differently. And then when me and Dave moved I did some thinking and… I didn’t have a word to describe how I felt about you then but I think I do now.”

“Oh yeah?” Dirk says, and his voice comes out a little shakier than he’d thought it would, “And what’s that, Egbert?”

He feels his breath falter when John reaches a hand up towards his face, only for him to pluck the cigarette from Dirk’s mouth and slowly take a drag. Dirk’s silent, watching as John looks up and smirks shakily at him before letting smoke curl out from between his lips.

“Egbert?” Dirk asks quietly as John puts the cigarette down onto the window, still smouldering as it lays there, and then turns his body further towards him. John stares for a moment more, catching his bottom lip between his teeth for a second as if he’s thinking, and then he leans in and kisses Dirk.

It’s the lightest kiss Dirk thinks he’s ever experienced, a feather-light brush of their lips together that doesn’t even give time for Dirk to react before John’s pulling back again. But it’s enough to send butterflies swooping low in Dirk’s stomach, and he lets out a tiny gasp of surprise that he’d be ashamed of if he was thinking properly right now. When John steps back from him, Dirk does nothing to try and pull him back, even though he’s already aching to get John closer to him. Instead he just stands there and tries to wrack his brain for something to say, untangling years of emotions and thoughts as he tries to deal with what just happened.

“That’s not a word, Egbert. You said you’d found a word,” is the first thing out of Dirk’s mouth, and he instantly regrets it. John just lets out a tiny huff of laughter at that, but he’s nervous, Dirk can tell from the way he’s picking at his nails and won’t make eye contact with him.

“Yeah,” John says quietly after a few long moments of silence have passed, “sorry, I shouldn’t have -”

“Shut up, Egbert,” Dirk murmurs, stepping forwards and gently dropping a hand heavily down onto John’s shoulder. John looks up at him with wide, questioning eyes. “You’re fine,” Dirk says, “It’s all fine.” And then he ducks in to kiss him again.

It’s a chaste, gentle kiss, both of them too nervous and unsure to take anything any further, but for Dirk it’s like no kiss he’s ever had. In all the experience he’s got, with all the boyfriends he’s had over the last few years, he’s never felt this much meaning in a kiss. There’s never been this much a history behind a relationship. There’s never been this much to lose.  
He tugs John closer to him, relishing the feelings of their chests pulled almost completely flush together, his hands gently working their way to the small of his back, pushing against warm skin through the thin material of his shirt. The taste of smoke lingers between their mouths and it's so different to what Dirk ever imagine kissing John would be like, and yet more perfect in every way.

John pulls away again eventually, but he doesn’t go far, leaving their bodies pressed close together and pressing his forehead against Dirk’s. “Dave’s gonna kill us both,” John says lightly. He’s a little breathless, and the sound makes Dirk stomach flutter again.

“Mmh, let him try,” Dirk chuckles, “I know that kid’s weaknesses.”

John mumbles something Dirk can’t hear, and then moves slightly, before letting out a tiny hiss of what sounds like pain.

“You okay?” Dirk asks softly, gently resting one hand on John’s waist.

“Yeah just… headache,” John mumbles.

“Yeah, drink’ll do that to you,” Dirk says “You need sleep. You can uh… take my bed, if you want. I’ll take the sofa.”

“If I say yes are you gonna go drink three energy drinks and spend all night thinking too much?” John asks, and Dirk sighs. This boy knows him too well, and John knows it. “Thought so,” John says with a small laugh, “We can just share the bed. It doesn’t have to be anything weird just… you know.”

Dirk sighs softly. “Yeah, I guess that’s fine,” he says softly. He’s aware that this should be weird, that John’s sad and he doesn’t want to be taking advantage of him, but John’s smiling faintly at him in the dim light and looking way more peaceful than before, so he smiles a little back at him and throws aside the covers on the bed so John can climb in. He quickly strides over to the window to toss out the long forgotten cigarette butt and pull the window shut, and then he heads over to the bed. John, apparently now far more comfortable in Dirk’s apartment, is already settling into the bed, and Dirk slowly climbs in beside him, leaving a gap between them that looks slightly too large to be normal.

“You’re doing it again,” John says softly.

“What?” Dirk asks.

“Closing yourself off,” John replies, scooting a little closer to him, “Like you used to do when we were kids. You liked me then, right? Dave always said you did but I didn’t believe him.”

“I’m gonna make that little shit pay,” Dirk hisses.

“Ssh,” John hushes with a little laugh, curling closer to him and pulling a corner of the duvet up over himself, “It’s okay now.”

“Yeah, I guess it all turned out alright, huh?” Dirk grunts.

“Mmh,” John hums in agreement. He’s silent for a moment, so silent that Dirk can practically hear him speaking, and then he moves his head upwards to look at him. “Dirk,” he says softly.

“Yeah?”

“Dad’s funeral’s next week. Jane’s coming over from England but… I don’t really wanna go alone. Would you… would you come with me?”

“You’d actually want me there?” Dirk asks quietly.

“Yeah, my dad always liked you,” John says with a small shrug, “And I feel like I owe it to him. He was always really excited to get to meet whoever I was dating. Should give him that one more time, right?”

“Sounds like a good plan to me,” Dirk whispers softly, “But you should probably ask Dave to come too. He loved your dad.”

John nods. “Alright, yeah, I’ll do that.”

“Cool,” Dirk smiles, leaning in and pressing a kiss to John’s forehead gently, “Now get some sleep.”

John nods sleepily, nestling his head further into the pillows, and for a second he’s so silent Dave thinks he’s fallen asleep. “Hey Dirk,” he says after a moment.

“What now?” Dirk asks with a small laugh. He’s pretty sure he’s never going to get John to sleep at this point.

“I didn’t think today was gonna go like this.”

“Pff,” Dirk laughs softly, “You can say that again.”

“No but seriously,” John says, gently nudging one foot against Dirk’s shin, “I’m glad you were the one that walked out onto that balcony.”

“Yeah, me too,” Dirk smiles softly, “I really am.”

John wriggles even closer to him and curls further against his chest, and Dirk returns the embrace gently, gathering bundles of John’s shirt in his hands and holding him close to him.

“Goodnight, John,” he murmurs quietly when John’s so quiet that he knows he’s dozed off. When there is, as expected, no reply, Dirk smiles and leans his head down to press a kiss to the top of his head. Dirk has no idea what’s happening, and this is surely the craziest day he’s had in a long time, but if it all leads him here, to a night where he’s curled up in bed with the boy he’s like for years, then he’s happy it’s lead to this.

**Author's Note:**

> this has been in my drafts for like a couple of months, but i'm bored so i thought i'd finally finish it which is why the end sorta sounds different to the start because like it was written in two different sittings. homestuck's the only thing getting me through social distancing by the way, like yesterday i spent the whole day in my dave strider cosplay despite having no intention on leaving my bedroom, because who cares anymore ya know. anyway i hope people enjoyed this, dirkjohn fics are always a sorta gamble of whether people will read them or nor but we'll see.


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